


Reprieve

by gloriousmonsters



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sad Fluff, elvish foster parents of the year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:57:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriousmonsters/pseuds/gloriousmonsters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros remembers a little of what he used to be (a brother, a caretaker).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reprieve

**Author's Note:**

> Maglor and Maedhros being elvish foster parents - written for an open request night on tumblr.

Maglor does not say it, but he is tired, eyelids fluttering shut every few moments when he thinks nobody is looking; but Maedhros is always watching, because Maglor is his last brother left to look out for, and some old instinct stirs in him when Maglor gets to his feet, saying something about putting the boys to bed.   
  
“You rest,” he says, “I’ll do it,” because a lifetime ago he can remember saying the same thing to his mother, or to Anaire, and Maglor sits back down and his eyes close again before Maedhros can re-consider his decision.  
  
He feels for the first time in some long while a flicker of fear deep in his gut - what if the twins are afraid of him, still? - but when he ducks his head to enter the shelter where they sleep, Elros’ face lights up and Maedhros quickly finds two small figures dangling off him.   
  
“Atar!” Elros yells, the same thing they’ve begun to call Maglor, and Maedhros finds himself sitting down, his throat constricting and eyes prickling, and speaking more softly than he has in some time. Did they wash their faces, are they all right without a song? - because he can’t sing like Maglor - (because the last time he sang was on a cliff, in response to a voice now stilled), and he falls with remarkable ease into the motions of his old role, the caretaker of the family. Elrond is a little quieter, shyer, but Elros clings to Maedhros, little fingers running curiously over the stump of his wrist, and babbles about the sea and what his day was like and doesn’t seem to be scared at all.  
  
Just as they are beginning to settle down, Maglor enters, and his eyes widen to see Maedhros there.  
  
“I thought I was dreaming of old times,” he said softly, then looked away. Maedhros does not blame him, for thinking his older brother too broken to fulfill his old role, but that goes unspoken as Elrond brightens in Maglor’s presence, tugging at his tunic-hem and asking for a song. Smiling sleepily, Maglor sinks down on the floor and pulls Elrond into his arms, murmuring the first lines of a lullaby.  
  
Elros sits back on Maedhros’ lap, snuggling his head against the shoulder of his short-ended arm; Maedhros hesitated, but finally held him one-armed, loosely, so that he could move if he wanted, and let his cheek rest against the child’s hair. Elros still smelled of the the sea, clean and innocent, and Maedhros could almost fool himself into thinking the children really belong to them.   
  
He closes his eyes and lets Maglor’s soft voice take him back to kinder times.


End file.
